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Author: Faelaern Story: Cry Havoc Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 8 Words: 30,131
"But long before having hurt Harry stood on the deck of the Persistence, looking out onto the fog-enshrouded ocean. He didn't know how long they'd been on the water now, but he reckoned it couldn't be more than half an hour. Due to the fog, he couldn't even see what direction they were going. "The ship's navigator must have some way of seeing through all this," said Ron, who was leaning against the rail beside him and waving a hand at the vaporous wall surrounding the ship. "One would hope," Harry muttered. He looked over his shoulder to the starboard side, and eyed Ginny for a moment. She was talking to Hermione in hushed tones, and every once in a while she'd glance his way. Harry pretended not to notice, and knew she'd respect his silence for the moment. He'd barely said a word since saying goodbye to Lupin. Seeing so many reminders of Sirius had just been too much on top of the forced farewell and Alicia's disappearance. He looked again from Ginny to Hermione and then back to Ron. It was moments like this he hated most; time when he was left alone with his thoughts. Then he had no distractions; no excuses to talk about something other than the guilt weighing down on him. Paradoxically, he also felt he needed time alone, without Hermione's voice cutting into his thoughts or Ron trying to change the subject…sometimes even without Ginny, reassuring as her presence usually was. None of this made any sense, of course. He didn't make any sense. On impulse he turned on his heel and walked across the deck to the stairs leading below. He looked over his shoulder at the top of the stairs, but Ron did not follow. He strode through the dim, torch-lit corridors without paying much mind to where he was going. Turning a corner, he found himself facing a pair of exotic-looking bloodwood double doors. He paused for a moment, wondering if the room beyond held things he somehow wasn't supposed to see. Deciding he didn't care, he gingerly opened the left door and stepped inside. He was standing in a small library. Strange and archaic-looking books lined three of the rooms' walls, most of which were written in languages Harry didn't recognize. In the centre of the room at a circular wooden table sat Ludmilla Mateeva, Viktor Krum's future wife…and a vampire. Harry hadn't seen her when they boarded the ship; Viktor had said she was 'unavailable at the moment' and left it at that. She didn't bother looking up from the book she was reading. "Potter." "Er, sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you," said Harry, making to close the door. Ludmilla looked up from her text and flashed a toothy smile. "Not at all. I've been deciphering this tome for hours. I suppose I could use a break. Come, sit down." Harry hesitated a moment, but deciding it was probably healthier to be polite to one's vampiric acquaintances, went over and took a seat next to her. He decided to studiously ignore the fact that the candle holder for the burning taper was a human skull. Ludmilla looked towards the open door and Harry felt a cold rush of wind before the door closed, seemingly of its own accord. "So…er, what were you reading?" asked Harry, trying to force down the feeling of uneasiness exuded by the vampire. "The tome is Arabic, and very old," said Ludmilla. "I will not speak its name aloud." "Kind of like Voldemort in book form?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. Ludmilla stared at him for a moment before speaking. "There is power in names, young one. Even in Voldemort's. It does not hold the power that many of the wizarding community seem to think it does… but it holds power nonetheless. It would be… unwise… to draw the attention of certain powers to this ship, and speaking the name of this book could do just that." "What exactly is in that book then?" asked Harry. "This book is a copy of a text penned by Salazar Slytherin. The original was burnt to ash by Unspeakables in the late sixteenth century." "Slytherin went Dark?" Harry exclaimed. "It is not… common knowledge." Ludmilla admitted. "But honestly, knowing the facts, you had to have at least suspected. I know about your little run-in with his basilisk." Harry was silent for a moment. Then, he said, "Why was the book written in Arabic? Slytherin wasn't an Arab." Ludmilla sighed. "Little is known of Salazar's life after Hogwarts. Most texts leave off at his leaving Hogwarts School, and don't mention him again. Some historians believe he died shortly thereafter. The vampires know better. In 1168 he killed the young son of a Kurdish noble, and used his considerable magical ability to conceal his identity. "By 1169, Saladin was appointed as commander of Syria's troops and vizier of Egypt. It is not known what his true intentions were at that time. According to Muggle history, Saladin was a fanatic Muslim who was entirely devoted to the concept of ji-had – holy war. He was also known for being generous, honourable, and a firm ruler." "None of this makes any sense," said Harry. "The entire reason Slytherin left Hogwarts was an argument over whether or not to teach Muggleborns. Why would he get deeply involved in a Muggle empire, given that he hated Muggles? And why would he be known for being generous and honourable if, as you said, he turned Dark?" "None of this would make any sense, if Slytherin had actually hated Muggleborns. He wanted to teach the best of the best, the cream of the crop…but he obviously couldn't say that to his contemporaries, could he?" Ludmilla said with a wry smile. "And at that time, most of the powerful wizards and witches were of 'pure blood.' So it was more a matter of politics than anything else." "How can you possibly know all of this?" Harry asked. "I mean, I don't really pay attention in History of Magic, but Hermione's all over this sort of thing, and I know she'd have mentioned it a long time ago if she'd known about it." "One of the advantages to having a vampire for an ally," said Ludmilla, "is having access to our archives. The lifespan for a vampire is 700 years, barring death inflicted on us by others… and we are very thorough historians. " "700 years?" asked Harry. "I thought that, you know, vampires live forever…" Ludmilla laughed. "No one lives forever, Harry Potter. This is what my great-great-grandmother told Slytherin, but he didn't believe her. He came to us in 1195, two years after the 'death' of Saladin, in search of immortality. He stayed with us for a time, and studied the powers of vampiric blood – which were, in fact, able to extend his life some years, though the process he used is rare and difficult to perform." "So he became a vampire then?" Harry asked. Ludmilla shook her head. "You either are a vampire, or you are not. You cannot 'become' a vampire, anymore than a Muggle can suddenly become a wizard. No, he used a magical equivalent to a Muggle blood transfusion." "Muggle blood transfusions don't work if you don't have the right blood type," said Harry. "Blood types between humans and near-humans are the same. It's just that there are properties of vampire blood that are not found in wizard or Muggle blood…and vice versa. Those properties are not enough to make a transfusion impossible." "Wait a minute," said Harry. "Is that how…did you?" Ludmilla smiled. "Is that how I am able to cast spells? In a word, yes. Or the reverse procedure, I should say. Needless to say it's highly illegal." Harry's eyes darkened. "Then Krum is nothing more than…" Ludmilla's eyes flashed white. Moving with the smooth and deadly grace of a great cat, she was over the table and pinning Harry to the floor before he had time to react. Her lips were mere centimetres from his neck. Harry cringed and waited for the bite to come. Instead, Ludmilla hissed in his ear, "I would die a thousand deaths for Viktor. How dare you insinuate that I would use him for that?" "Prove it. Prove me wrong," said Harry. "I don't have to," Ludmilla snarled. In what seemed like another single motion, she was back on her feet and pulling Harry to his feet by his collar. "Get out of my sight. I doubt Dumbledore would be very happy if I snapped the neck of his little protégé." Harry fled the ship's library at a run. He hadn't made it fifty feet down the corridor before he crashed headlong into Hermione, knocking her to the deck and causing him to trip over her prone body. "Ouch! Harry, watch where you're going!" Hermione said, rubbing her elbow where it had been slammed into the floor. "Sorry, Hermione," said Harry, wincing. He got to his feet and offered a hand to help Hermione up. She shook her head and stood up herself. "What had you in such a hurry?" she asked crossly. "Every woman in the known world thinks I'm the scum of the earth, that's what," said Harry. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What happened? I was up on deck with Ginny until two minutes ago, and you hadn't talked with her before that. I mean, she said you needed to be alone, but if something –" "Nothing happened," Harry cut her off. "At least, I haven't done anything to piss off Ginny yet. I'm sure I'll manage before the night is over, with the way I'm going." "If not Ginny then –" Hermione stopped herself. "Ludmilla. Holy cricket, Harry, Viktor told us not to disturb her! What's wrong with you?" Harry sighed heavily. "I don't know when to keep my mouth shut, that's what. That and I'm getting bloody paranoid." Hermione's expression softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come at you like that. I'm… it's nerves I guess. Can I talk to you?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "It would appear so." Hermione looked like she was about to snap at him, but restrained herself. "Not here. Somewhere private – in our cabin maybe?" All of their belongings were in one cabin, as they weren't going to be staying the night this time around. Harry felt really odd going 'somewhere private' with Hermione for some reason. He wasn't sure where this feeling was coming from, as they'd talked to each other one-on-one on countless other occasions. He thought it might have something to do with the way she phrased it, but wasn't sure. Nevertheless, after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. They walked into their cabin, and Hermione sat on her trunk. Harry grabbed the small desk chair, turned it so its back was facing him, and sat down, straddling the seat. "What's up?" Hermione sighed. "I think I owe you an apology." Harry blinked. "You do? What for?" "I've been acting a bit insensitive of late. Well, more than a bit," Hermione said. "If this is about the Kreacher thing, it should be me that's apologising," Harry said. Hermione winced and shook her head. "No. I still think that Kreacher's situation is very unfair, but I understand why Dumbledore did it, and I should have known you wouldn't want his death merely because of prejudice." "What?" Harry asked, quite puzzled. "It's hard some times, being Muggleborn," Hermione said, as if this were something Harry hadn't known. "What's that got to do with anything?" Harry asked. "Well… it's like Ron said to me earlier, I think. Muggleborns are looked down on by a lot of people due to circumstances of birth. So are house-elves. I… I see myself in them, sort of. Or at least, I know what it feels like to be treated like scum due to circumstances of birth." With effort, Harry held back saying that he knew a bit about that himself. Hermione sighed. "I guess, because I know I wouldn't do the sort of thing that Kreacher did, I refused to believe he would, because I identified with him because of what he was." It took Harry a moment to put together what Hermione had just said. "Ah. Okay. And this came from… Ron?" Hermione nodded. "I sort of… put him up to talking to you, after you snapped at me. And… I know he did, but I guess it bothered him, so we talked about it. That's what he thought was going on." "Emotional range of a teaspoon?" Harry said with a grin, suddenly remembering something she'd said about Ron a long while ago. Hermione blushed. "Well, some of the time, honestly… but he knows me, Harry. I'm not sure how, but he does." Harry laughed. "Weasley intuition is scary." Hermione grinned. "Too right. So…anyway, I'm sorry I misjudged you. I wasn't thinking." "It's all right," said Harry. "Sorry I snapped at you." "Apology accepted," said Hermione, standing up and hugging him briefly. Harry turned to open the door, but Hermione said, "May I ask what you said to Ludmilla?" Harry shook his head. "Not now." Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn't stop Harry from opening the door and heading back up on deck. Ginny was standing next to Ron on the starboard railing, looking out over the mist-enshrouded water. Harry moved silently up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. She started for a moment but relaxed when she saw who it was. "Hey." "Hi," said Harry, unsure of what to say after ignoring her all evening. "Feeling any better?" Ginny asked, turning to look up at him. Harry smiled feebly. "A bit." "Well, while you were moping, I managed to wheedle our destination out of one of the crew." "How'd you do that?" Harry asked, not entirely surprised. "I just talked with a few of the sailors. Asked them where they'd been, and if they'd ever gone to where we're going now. One of them let slip that we're going to Normandy." "Makes sense, really," said Ron. "There isn't a very large wizarding population there." "Yeah, but who do we know in Normandy?" Harry asked. "Karl lives in Normandy," said Hermione, coming up next to Ron on the railing. "How d'you know that?" asked Harry. "I pay attention," said Hermione. "To what?" asked Ron, incredulous. "He's never said exactly where he lives." "No, but he sends his post to Vierville-sur-Mer," said Hermione. "The British are invading Normandy again." "Does this happen often?" Ron asked, smirking. "It's happened more than once before, in Muggle history," Hermione said. Ron crossed his arms, but there was teasing glint in his eye as he said, "Oh no, no you don't. We have enough fun with Hogwarts, a History. Leave the Muggles out of this." Hermione looked caught between looking indignant and smiling fondly at him. Harry sensed Ludmilla's approach and resisted the urge to turn around. She walked past him and up to Viktor, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. He whispered something in her ear and she nodded. Turning on her heel she stalked up to where Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were standing and said tersely, "It's time. We'll be taking the Golden Snitch to shore; your trunks will be delivered later tonight." She glared at Harry, as if daring him to challenge her, but he said nothing. They boarded the small dingy in silence. Harry took his place in the middle of the boat, next to Ginny. He pulled Ginny closer and she rested her head on his shoulder. It was a comfortable feeling, but he couldn't help but wonder if the aftermath of this particular boat trip would be as tragic as the last.
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